


A Pieder Story

by NaomiPhoenix



Series: A Pieder Story [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Amatakka, Amavikka, Breathplay, Cum Eating, Depictions of Male Nudity, Fiallerial, Flashbacks, Force Visions, Force-bond, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, RotJ AU, Tatooine Slave Culture, Tatooine Slave Religion, post-orgasmic introspection, sand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:32:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12651828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiPhoenix/pseuds/NaomiPhoenix
Summary: The Will of the Force has taken Admiral Piett and Darth Vader off-course to a world where the Lord of the Sith is being called and the Admiral finds he has no choice but to follow





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shape-Changer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4678835) by [Fialleril](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fialleril/pseuds/Fialleril). 



> I don't own Star Wars - but I would love to.
> 
> Tags are open to alterations and additions

Rings of ice and rock, formed from the debris of a long-dead moon, danced in a figure of eight around a gaseous planet and its surviving sibling. The giant greedily held the majority. Its enormous red eyes, formed by twin hurricanes, innumerable centuries old, looked down over the pox-marked moon, scarred but still living thanks to an atmosphere and its neighbours hoarding.

Together they were the very image of something dark, beastly and malevolent, lording over its smaller, serf moon. And something, somewhere on this scarred moon, was calling to Lord Vader.  
They were not meant to be here. Admiral Piett and Lord Vader, along with a small shuttle crew and guards, had been on-route to Townoni as the Emperor’s representatives to oversee the installation of a pro-Imperial Monarch upon that planets throne. Instead they found themselves seriously off-course, and in dire straits. 

Rather than staying with their crashed ship Lord Vader had followed the call. Admiral Piett found himself following, leaving the survivors from the shuttle crash to repair the comm’s and call for a rescue.

They’d not walked more than three-hundred metres into a cave when the floor disappeared beneath their feet. When Piett came to, he found himself in a place so dark the stone itself consumed all light reflected onto the moon by the planet and their rings. But there was light still to be found, from veins of bioluminescent stone glowing an earthly but at the same time sickly green. Light which made it clear Lord Vader was no longer present. 

“Lord Vader -,” he began suddenly as just as suddenly stopped just as quickly as he sat up too fast. Through the sudden waves of dizziness, Piett became aware of the heat. Then the noise; something in the distance. Picking himself up off the ground, Piett moved towards the source and the air grew hotter still. Glowing green light suffocated as bright, hot orange light took hold and Piett found himself on a landing platform under a smoky sky of a planet on fire, beside a chrome plated Nubian cruiser. In the distance, geysers of molten stone appeared behind the silhouette of a building - and a cloaked figure. The figure saw the ship, threw back its hood and came running towards the ship. As the figure approached Piett’s eyes grew wide with recognition. He’d been in his later teens when the Clone Wars took place and he had followed the news devotedly. Especially in regards to General’s Skywalker and Kenobi. And here was Anakin Skywalker, father of the Rebel Jedi Luke Skywalker, standing metres away from him. Piett almost missed the ramp of the Nubian cruiser opened and a young woman, rather pregnant ran out far faster that he would have thought a pregnant woman would move - straight into Anakin Skywalker’s arms.

“I saw your ship.” Piett heard him say as he pulled her close. “What are you doing out here?” He looked at her with all concern. 

“I was so worried about you.” She pulled away a little but did not let him go. “Obi-Wan, he came to the apartment. He told me terrible things.”

Skywalker’s expression darkened, “What things?” His tone was demanding. 

“He - he said that you turned to the Dark Side. That you killed younglings,” she cried. Piett’s blood ran absolutely cold. Anakin Skywalker, the greatest Warrior the Jedi and the Republic, gone to the Dark Side like Lord Vader supposedly was? No, he could not believe it. Anyone who knew their history, knew Skywalker meet his end at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, defending it against Lord Vader who had come to end the Jedi Order after they had attempted coup, to assassinate the then-Chancellor and take over the Republic. The Emperor had made it perfectly clear Skywalker was innocent of those comes - but he was the only one.

But wait - hadn’t the woman said the younglings had been killed; supposedly by Skywalker? Was this after Lord Vader had marched on the temple? It made no sense, not with what he already knew. 

“Obi-Wan is trying to turn you against me,” Skywalker replied gently, with a very matter-of-fact tone. 

“He cares about us,” she insisted.

Skywalker flinched, just a little, “Us?”

She nodded, “He knows.” And Piett realised he knew too. This woman, she must be the mother of Luke Skywalker! If this, whatever it was, was a true reflection of history and was taking place at the time of the birth of the Empire, Luke Skywalker was days away from being born! “He wants to help you.” Skywalker huffed, even smiled at her apprehensive expression before dismissing what she’d said with a shake of his head. Skywalker dismissing Kenobi? What was this? And why was Piett seeing it? Lord Vader had mentioned the Force was strong here but that didn’t exactly help Piett’s understanding at all.

She gripped his arms tighter, “All I want is your love.”

“Love won’t save you Padmé.” Padmé? Padmé Amidala? The last Republic Senator of Naboo? She was the mother of Luke Skywalker? “Only my new powers can do that.” Suddenly even dizzier than he had been before, Piett found himself sat on the realistically hot stone of the landing platform. What did Skywalker thinks he needed saving from? She was young, and fit, if her running while days away from giving birth was anything to judge by. Then Piett remembered the rumour she had been killed by a rogue Jedi; possibly even Kenobi himself. Had she been killed for loving a Jedi? For carrying his child?

“But at what cost?” She asked. “You’re a good person. Don’t do this.”

“I won’t lose you the way I lost my mother,” he insisted. “I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of.” He said it like he believed it absolutely. “And I’m doing it for you. To protect you.”

She moved her hands to caress his hair and his face, “Come away with me. Help me raise our child.” Her voice grew more and more desperate. “Leave everything else behind while we still can.”

“Don’t you see? We don’t have to run away anymore,” Skywalker smiled. “I have brought peace to the Republic.” Then he began to stutter, “I am more powerful than the Chancellor. I can overthrow him.” If Piett had not already been floored earlier, hearing this statement spoken by Skywalker would have done it. “And together, you and I can rule the galaxy. Make things the way we want them to be.”

She had already let him go and was backing away from him, shaking her head before he had finished speaking, “I don’t believe what I’m hearing,” she cried. “Obi-Wan was right! You’ve changed!”

Skywalker looked furious, “I don’t want to hear any more about Obi-Wan,” he growled. “The Jedi turned against me. Don’t you turn against me!”

“I don’t know you anymore.” She was truly weeping now. “Anakin. You’re breaking my heart. You’re going down a path I can’t follow!”

“Because of Obi-Wan?” the question was asked without him looking at her. 

“Because of what you’ve done! What you plan to do!” Piett could see Skywalker’s fury growing and he was still refusing to look at the Senator. “Stop! Stop now! Come back! I love you!”

“Liar!” he roared. And suddenly when the Senator turned and began to shake her head fearfully, and with utter disbelief on her countenance, Piett realised Skywalker hadn’t been avoiding looking at her, he was looking at something. No, someone. Piett followed their line of sight, stumbling back to his feet.

At the top of the ramp, inside the ship the Senator had arrived in stood Jedi High General Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

“You’re with him! You brought him here to kill me!” Piett felt his own throat constrict as Skywalker made an all-too-familiar gesture in the Senator’s direction and the pregnant Senator’s hands flew to her throat. Skywalker was choking his pregnant lover with the Force as Piett had seen Vader do to Ozzel and Needa. 

“No!” the Senator cried out in horror, backing away from Skywalker. 

“Let her go Anakin!” Kenobi ordered. Her lips moved, her eyes pleading with him to listen to Kenobi. “Let her go!” Kenobi tried again, coming closer.

Dead or unconscious, when Skywalker finally released her she collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Piett wanted to rush to her side, to give her aid but he know it was decades too late. 

“You turned her against me!” Skywalker screamed. 

“You have done that yourself.” Kenobi moved, keeping his distance from his former friend to check on the Senator. 

“You will not take her from me!” The other roared, shedding his cloak. 

“Your anger and your lust for power have already done that.” Kenobi lay his own aside and checked the Senator’s pulse. A look of relief passed across his face, just for a moment. “You have allowed this Dark Lord to twist your mind until now, you have become the very thing you swore to destroy,“ Kenobi was eerily calm as he made the statement. 

“Don’t lecture me Obi-Wan. I see through the lies of the Jedi,” the younger man sneered. “I do not fear the Dark Side as you do.” The pair circled one another as he spoke. “I have brought peace, freedom, justice and security to my new Empire.”

“Your new Empire?!” Kenobi echoed with disbelief. 

“Don’t make me kill you.”

“Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic! To DEMOCRACY!” Piett was startled by the High General’s raised voice. 

“If you’re not with me, you’re my enemy.” Skywalker spoke it like he was handing down a death sentence. 

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I will do what I must.” And just like that Kenobi took up his lightsaber and activated it. 

“You will try.” The duel, their duel, started when Skywalker made the first move, attacking.  
They moved like dancers, with years of experience and intimate knowledge of each other. Piett almost dared not to follow, even with the awareness he was just an observer at the forefront of his mind. He feared getting caught up in the heat of their battle. But follow his did, through rooms and corridors as they reached stalemate after stalemate, neither man willing to submit and join the bodies littering the floor. Even when the desperate duel moved outside again, Piett continued to follow as closely as he dared; sometimes only able to glimpse lightsabers and silhouettes through erupting molten stone.

They travelled almost over a lavafall only for the duel to turn around and make its way back towards the facility on the back of worker droids and autonomous platforms. The suddenly Kenobi made a move onto the lava bank while Skywalker come near on a platform. For several long moments they stared at one another, as though the battleground had moved to their minds. 

“It’s over Anakin! I have the high ground!” Skywalker said nothing but looked to be plotting his next move. Kenobi seemed to guess what it was. “Don’t try it!” He sounded like he was pleading.  
Skywalker moved, leaping high to take Kenobi’s advantage from him as he swept forth with his lightsaber. Kenobi too moved to defend himself and for several long moments after Skywalker hit the ground Piett’s mind could not comprehend what had happened.

Kenobi had with his defence, struck off Skywalker’s three natural limbs, leaving the younger man to tumble down the lava bank with only his artificial hand to save himself.

Kenobi reeled back in horror as he realised what he had done, while Skywalker cried out his pain. The elder man stumbled back, deactivating his blade. “You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith; not join them! Bring balance to the Force; not leave it in Darkness!” tears poured down his cheeks as her walked away.

Was he not going to kill Skywalker? thought Piett. Kenobi stopped once, to pick up the others fallen lightsaber, then kept going. 

“I HATE YOU!” Skywalker bellowed. Piett balked at the colour of his eyes. Gone was the blue. They were a sickly sorted of yellow now, rimmed blood red. ¬¬¬“You were my brother Anakin. I loved you,” Kenobi responded but still he did not look back but hugged Skywalker’s saber to his chest.

Not even when Skywalker slipped in his struggles, further down the lava bank and the heat of the lava caused his clothes to ignite, did Kenobi stop or look back. Not even at Skywalker’s screams of agony. Kenobi just kept walking until he was out of sight, and only Piett and the burnt and maimed body of Skywalker remained. 

Piett did not know how much time passed as he watched and heard Skywalker’s ever weakening struggles and cries. He didn’t realise one ship had left and another had arrived until a familiar robed figure approached with two Clone Wars Era Coruscanti Guards. “Your Majesty! This way!”

“There he is!” the Emperor cried. “He’s still alive,” the Emperor sounded relieved. “Get a medical capsule!” he ordered in a biting tone before he moved down the lava bank to Skywalker’s side, kneeling by him and touching a hand to his burnt brow. “All will be well, Lord Vader. I am here.”  
For Piett, it was as though the very earth beneath his feet had once again given away. Or the Executor had gone into hyperspace and left him behind. Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader! It was too ridiculous to be true! Except that it wasn’t. Not completely. It would make perfect sense to someone who had sent time with the Lord of the Sith and had witnessed how devoted he was to the search for Luke Skywalker - his own son. 

What had happened once Kenobi had left here? Had he taken the Senator? Had he killed her as rumour said? No, that seemed unlikely, especially after Piett had seen how relieved he looked to find the Senator still had a pulse. Kenobi must have taken her somewhere to give birth. But still she had died, hadn’t she?

The scene faded away and for the first time in who knew how long Piett could hear a familiar sound. The rhythmic sound of Lord Vader’s respirator. His back turned from Piett, his mask faced in the direction Kenobi had gone, even as the illusion disappeared. He was practically behind him, for how long Piett could not say. 

“That - that is not how I remember it,” Vader said. “Padmé came, hurling accusations and wielding a knife. She tried to kill me. I defended myself and in my anger I killed her. Then Obi-Wan was there. I could barely defend myself against him. I tried to talk to him but he would not hear me. He was blinded by rage - at - at seeing his lover fall. He wanted vengeance but it was they had betrayed me. Padmé and Obi-Wan had betrayed me, with each other. I wasn’t even certain the baby was mine anymore.

We fought to the edge of a caldera. I remember hearing the boiling lava, and how the heat and smoke affected my eyes. I was already half-blinded by his attacks by then. He had landed two strikes. One upon my cheek; the other upon my scalp. I still bare those scars. But he did not stop there. All I recall is my lightsaber slipping away and falling, first to the ground and then down into the caldera itself. I couldn’t stop it from happening. I couldn’t call on the force through the pain. And then when I hit the ledge I felt my neck break and my body go numb. It wasn’t until later I realised Obi-Wan had taken the rest of my natural limbs. Or that I had burned. My ribs were broken though I could not feel them. Breathing became more and more difficult, and most of my organs were failing when the Emperor rescued me.” 

Either version of events was horrific. “Which is the truth?”

Piett did not expect an answer, especially not the answer he received. “What you saw.” After several steady breathes Lord Vader added, “The Force tells me it is the truth.”

Closing his eyes, Piett took in a deep breath and held it until his chest ached and the rushing sound of his own blood roared through his ears, dampening the effect of the old world, once more lit by the bioluminescent stone. When he finally exhaled Lord Vader seemed to actually realise Piett was truly present. 

“Admiral? You’re not - you are real?”

“I am, my Lord. You ordered me to accompany you into the cave. Do you recall?” he answered as if he was answering and number of questions from his Commanding Officer on the bridge of their Lady Ex, and not in a bleak cave after witnessing a horrific piece of the Sith Lord’s past play in front of them. Best to keep as much normalcy as possible. “Might I suggest we remove ourselves back to the crash site?”

“Possibly Admiral.” The deep rumbling voice of Vader responded. “But do you know which way we came?”

Piett started, suddenly realising the chamber in which they stood had no great gaping hole in its ceiling, and no open cave above to show the night sky. And it was so much larger, with many possible exits. “I do not sense the way back; only the way forward.” His imposing silhouette turned ever so slightly as he blankly gazed at one of the many tunnels. “I am still being called.”  
“It is wise to follow it after that - display, my Lord?”

“Temples, Jedi or Sith, are not known to be gently with visitors. Those who come, often come to evaluate their devotion; their will, competency, strength and understanding. And in the case of a Sith temple - their rage and passion,” the Sith Lord explained. 

“That was just a test?!” He didn’t know much about the Force; he’d been more interested in the Generals’ and their victories then their powers and mystique. But he knew first hand they, or at least Lord Vader was capable of incredible fear - and terrible things; and if their shared vision was just a first test, what was to come?

“Fear not, Admiral. This place has no interest in you.”

“That is my fear, my Lord,” Piett replied. “You just said yourself, that vision was a true depiction of a historical event. A key historical event of your past. Yet your own memories are of something quite different. I am wondering what other revelation you might face here; what other truths might be revealed - such as who is responsible for your altered memories,” Piett answered plainly.  
“You suspect a trap?”

“Or something like it.” Lord Vader finally looked away from the direction of the mysterious call ad gave the Admiral his full attention. “My Lord, whatever is happening here is no ordinary thing - not even for you, I suspect.” 

“Your insight serves you well, Admiral. But it is the will of the Force that I am here.” In all his years serving, first as a Captain, than as an Admiral, and as Lord Vader’s second-in-command, Piett never hear anything spoken by the Sith in this way. Whatsmore, this whole situation was intensely personal and Lord Vader was an intensely private person. “Are you certain, my Lord, that you should follow the will of the Force - in this case?” he asked cautiously. 

“Were I anyone else Admiral, I might very well chose to ignore the will of the Force. But were I to do so, it might be seen as the act of an impertinence - that of an unruly child.” The response was puzzling. Was Lord Vader describing himself as a child?

For the first time in all their years working side-by-side, Lord Vader revealed he could truly read minds by answering Piett’s thoughts. “I am the Force’s child. Not in the way one might be born to wield its power - but in the literal sense. I am the son of the Force.”

Piett could not put into words what he expected, but it wasn’t his. This was the furthest thing from it. This interaction they suddenly had; it would be laughable, if it wasn’t so frightening. “My Lord, I am honoured you have chosen to share this with me, but can it be right for me to know this?” 

“Is sense no danger in your knowing,” Vader resolutely replied. “Whatever you learn here, it is by the will of the Force; as is all I will learn - because you and I will need to know it.” Wasting no more time Vader moved towards the call and Piett felt he had no choice but to follow. He simply saw no other option - though he did not like it. He had not gotten so far in his life and his career by following whims. But with so little experience in regard to this Force business, it seemed wisest to follow the expert.


	2. Vader's Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Vader discovers something unexpected from the Admiral and meditates on it in a place where the Force takes no side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 and I still don't own Star Wars

The caves they followed were set out almost like a set of corridors. They wound around, taking them left or right; taking them closer to the surface and at other times moving deeper underground until Piett could not guess how far they had come. To top it all off them whole journey felt atemporal.

The obviously hand-crafted staircase was rather a surprise. It was old, broken and bowed from centuries of use and disuse. Lulled into a hypnotised-state by the endless nothing and Vader’s rhythmic breathing, Piett might have walked right onto and off of them. Instead he came to his senses in Lord Vader’s arms. 

The latter was the most heart-stopping. The feel of the powerful, mountain of a man against his back; the strong hand around his waist which he clung too with both his own. His body reacted before his mind could catch up and relaxed into the other man. His hearts rhythm restored itself at a quicker pace. The slightly cooled air grew thick as he took a heavy breath.

“Do you have your feet again, Admiral?” The voice, which should have acted on him like a cold shower, only served to make his toes curl.

Something of Piett’s common sense realised that a question had been asked and he answered, “Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.” He quickly busied his hands straightening his uniform. 

“Rest, Admiral.”

“I’m quite alright now, my Lord. It was only a momentary lapse.” One which should never have happened, he did not add. Gods help him, his core tingled where he’d been caught.

“We have walked for some distance. You require rest. Eat, drink and rest. The call has only grown stronger. It will not fade any time soon,” the other said almost reassuringly. Knowing better than to tempt fate by arguing, the Admiral followed his Lord’s orders.

\---*---

His small, loyal, obedient shadow. When had this man endeared himself to Vader so? The smaller man made quick work of some spiced bantha jerky and an electrolyte pouch before he fell into sleep, head pillowed on his survival pack. Though it was the furthest thing from cold he set his cloak over the Admirals sleeping form before he seated himself to meditate on the other.

Piett’s mind was typically a quiet, organised affair. Focused and duty-bound, he was master of himself. Piett had no wants but to do his duty, to the best of his ability. And he was capable of doing just that. It was why Vader had him transferred from the Axxila Antipirate Fleet to Death Squadron, then removed Ozzel and promoted him. Finally he had found someone worthwhile, someone worthy to be his second-in-command.

When the opportunity arose, Vader would make a Grand Admiral of Piett. Men like Firmus Piett were what the Empire needed. Where to place him though was an issue. And this - new information - it had come as a surprise. As had Lord Vader’s own feeling towards the sudden, unexpected discovery.

Piett had always felt something of a healthy but not unmanageable dose of fear towards him - sensing unmistakable desire in its stead had come as a shock. As had its impact on Vader’s own self. Never, in all the decades he had been imprisoned in this Force-damned suit, had anyone felt genuine desire towards him. Professional interest, wondering curiosity and heady fear, yes - but never desire. And it had not fled from its source when he had spoken to break the moment, but spiked before settling, and still being perceivable as the Admiral ate and drank, then finally settled into sleep. 

He found it strange, to find he felt no internal conflict. He was only confounded by his lack of conflict on the subject of Firmus Piett. And in his meditation too. Typically his meditations were tumultuous affairs with the Dark Side. But here the Force was unafflicted. Not particularly dark nor particularly light. It was simply itself. Vader found in it a clarity he had never before achieved. In the presence of the Force’s less capricious nature, many of the compulsions which typically governed him were simply not present, lending him clarity. Vader would not squander the reprieve. 

Delving deeper, Vader sensed there must always have been some deep unconscious desire beneath the surface, for him to have reacted in such a way. Whether it was towards Piett or just in general, he could not discern. 

The want for attachments should have suffocated and been dead long ago. The want which had viciously, violently reared an ugly head when he discovered his child lived. A want then tainted by the Dark Side. But there was no Dark Side in the here and now. 

He would not place Piett under any weight of expectation. Vader knew too much of loss to lose again, understanding now after so many hard lessons on the subject, that believing oneself to have the right to claim possession over another, was the quickest path to loss. He would leave it to be the Admiral’s choice and accept, whether it was with or against Vader’s own want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the Pieder Discord for giving me ideas XD <3


	3. I am yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Vader makes Admiral Piett aware, that He is aware of the Admiral's feelings towards him

Returning to consciousness for the second time since entering the caves, was far more pleasant than the first. His pillow wasn’t anything to write home about, but the weighty silk-like sheet covering him was simply glorious. Piett wanted to curl himself up in it and return to sleep.

“Admiral.” Piett sat up, heart pounding. His sight adjusted quickly in the low light and he found the source of the voice sitting, legs crossed, no more than three metres away.

“Apologies, My Lord. Have I been asleep for long?” gasped Piett.

“As long as you needed to be,” the other replied cryptically. “Long enough you should take another meal before we move on.”

Pfassk! That was too long, thought Piett, so he hurried through the second meal. The sheet which had cover him while he slept sat draped over his lap. His fingers played over it, enjoying the fine quality of the fabric until his fingers brushed over something metallic. Links; a chain of them and a familiar one at that. Only years of discipline keep him from gasping but his intake of breath was still louder than he would have liked. The figure which had been sitting across from him all the while, tilted his head. Piett stood and held it forth for the Sith Lord to take, keeping his countenance professional even as he mourned its loss; enjoying its texture until it was returned to where it belonged. He had to wonder how he had come to be blanketed by it and cursed inwardly at the spike of arousal which rushed through him when Lord Vader stood and moved past him - when for a moment, it curled around his leg and pulled at him to follow. 

The way forward was pitch black. Diving into his backpack, Piett sort an emergency light. With a satisfying snap the vial inside broke but there failed to be any chemical reaction. He tried the second only to repeat the result. The glow stick producer was going to receive a very curt letter once he had a working comm to hand, as would those responsible for maintaining the packs. 

“Perhaps your lightsaber might light our way, my Lord,” he suggested carefully.

“Perhaps. If it had not been damaged in our fall.” Well, what were they meant to do now? They’d have to turn back, Piett thought. But Lord Vader was unconcerned in regards to their predicament. “Come Admiral.” Lord Vader turned to him and reached out his hand. Piett could only look at it dumbstruck. Surely Lord Vader didn’t mean for him to take it? “Take it, Admiral. This area is not a lit as the previous has been and only I have access to night vision.”

“As you say, my Lord.” Piett swallowed hard as the others hand engulfed his own.

The stairs for all their wear and warping, were of a straightforward design, weaving back and forth under itself to take up as little of the cavernous wall as possible. The greatest danger came not from the broken stairs or the unguarded side but from the water and the dark. A build-up of slime and water-washed debris gave Lord Vader cause to lift the Admiral over them on several occasions. Every touch served only to keep alive the little spark of arousal which refused to go out. Why wasn’t Lord Vader saying anything? Doing anything? He must know. He could read minds.

“Yes.” Vader’s voice - no, Piett was certain he was imaging the purr. It was probably a trick of the environment. But those words. Internally he was screaming at himself. They could not possibly mean - no, Lord Vader’s words were too abstract. He would not judge them, not while he was suffering this ridiculously unprofessional, inappropriate state.

Piett trembled, feeling as though he’d been cut loose in the vacuum of space. His only anchor to reality was Vader’s own hand. It was the worst anchor possible, given the circumstances. It was so dark, he felt powerless to move without the other guidance. But for their movements, the only sounds were their own breathing. Vader’s steady and regular, and Piett’s, ragged and ever faster.

Nothing could mute the startled gasp which escaped him as his boots left the floor. But there was still breath enough in him to desert him when a leg pressed between his and his back came into contact with a cold, wet and slimy wall. To steady himself, Piett grabbed hold of the very thing which had placed him there - Lord Vader. The hand which had held his own a moment ago, now had both pinned above his head. The other was firmly placed at the top of Piett’s leg - almost caressing and most certainly encouraging them to stay where they had landed, around Lord Vader’s waist. A warrior’s instinct honed by years of use voiced their opinion he should fight, so he struggled to remove himself. The slimy smoothness of the wall only allowed him to move so far, because Lord Vader would not. Pressed so firmly against the Sith Lord, his struggles succeed only in building up the tension growing between them. Piett opened his mouth to say something, anything but he could form no words. Instead a whimper escaped him. Half-expecting Lord Vader to wield his power and stop his breath, he flinched hard when the other man spoke. “Calm yourself, Admiral. I am not offended. Quite the opposite.” There was no mistaking his meaning now. So Piett could no longer doubt, Lord Vader used the Force to apply a subtle but pleasant pressure, the kind which could tempt a man to relax. It was not just his heart which fluttered.

“Ugh- my, my Lord - I, I don’t.” He cut of his own protestations with a moan when the Force increased in pressure, just the right amount that all the nervous tension which had been building began to seep away.

“You are honourable, to the point of incorruptibility. You are steadfastly loyal and of unwavering dedication.” Lord Vader’s voice was a low as the vocoder would allow. And that purr - Piett could no longer deny its presence. “It was these traits which brought you to my attention. I foresaw you, by my side before we had ever met. Though it is unprofessional, given our positions, I am not against this, Admiral - if you are willing, so am I.”

“My Lord.” Piett tried to say more but it seemed impossible to articulate. His confusion and unease did wane, give the directness of Lord Vader’s declaration. Yet this was, in no uncertain terms, completely unexpected. “What do you propose, my Lord?” he gasped upon recovering his voice. It almost escaped him again when Lord Vader freed his hands, guiding them and wordlessly permitting Piett to touch him in return.

“I was wed once. I knew I would be hers when we met. Just as I know now, if you accept me, I am yours.”

‘He’s mine!!’ In the dark, with only his senses of touch and hearing available to him, it all felt so completely unreal. Like a dream he dared not have. He tried to take in a steadying breath but the sensations Lord Vader was leaving on his skin through the Force, left him panting. That voice, those words, so exceptionable and full of promise, made an arduous challenge of thinking clearly.

Beneath his guided hands, he felt the strong durasteel of Lord Vader’s pauldron, touched the weighty smoothness of the armourweave cloak and caressed the firm strength of plastoid armour. Lord Vader shifted, just a little, continuing to guide Piett’s hands to his suit’s life support control panel. The Admiral gasped and trembled as he felt the buttons under his fingertips.

‘I trust you.’ The words were not said, yet Piett heard them. More than that, he felt them flow through him on wings of the Force, infusing themselves into his heart and mind, his bones and his belly. Piett no longer ached, he was utterly on fire, and the Force, through Vader’s will acted in kind. The tingling sensations which had stirred Piett’s arousal now fanned the flames. He was made wanton by his Lord’s touch, the supernatural and the physical, his body flooded with heat. 

He wanted so badly to kiss the other. Piett found relief when one large leather-gloved hand caressed his cheek. Like a thirsty man lead to water, he flooded the palm, the wrist and each finger with kisses. He sucked a fingertip in between his lips and dragged his teeth along its length. It earned him another taste of Lord Vader’s passion. 

From the mask issued a string of undignified sounds and the great man showed a sign of coming undone. The leg which had been one of Piett’s reason for needing to cling to the other shook, and slipped. Piett was left grasping to the other until Lord Vader leant him a hand, fingertips digging into his buttocks with a burst of pleasure/pain. 

The abstract touch teasing Piett’s whole body stayed, increased even, pulsating with their shared passion but also taking form. A throbbing tendril curled firstly around his ankle, against his skin as though his boots were not presently being worn. Slowly it twisted and turned and crept up the inside of his trouser leg. Had the cloth twisted or tightened he, in the lust-fog of his mind, might have thought it a serpent, but the only tightness there was caused by their increasing passions. 

Piett was taken by surprise when it stopped moving over his skin and moved inside him. He did not hold back and let the Sith Lord know most vocally, how he enjoyed this obscene, lurid use of the Force. The just right feeling of fullness, the prefect application of pressure right where he craved it the most.

There was naught to each but one another as they reached breaking point. The build-up between them, the ever-entangling, ever-building pleasure, broke the threshold and the Sith could not keep his feet. When the intoxicating reverberation of pleasure ebbed, neither had voice. Touch became their form of communication. Brow to helmet, hand to pauldron, bodies entwined, the hum of a connection fresh in its forging singing between them.

Through it, Piett too now could hear the call of the Force, and at its urging they found their feet and moved apart, but still they touched. With his free hand, Lord Vader placed the strap of the backpack in Piett’s. When he had lost it, the Admiral could not tell but he must have at some point because the back of his jacket was plastered to his skin by sweat and slime.

There was so much which needed to be said, which they would have to talk about - but that could wait for some future time. Here and now they had a call to answer.


	4. Stimulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their passions get the better of them - again

Two turns later the staircase ended and their journey across the massive cavern began with no obstacles greater than those managed on the way down, until they reached an underground river. It was extraordinary - he could not see it, yet through Lord Vader, and the strange, warm presence in his mind, Piett knew there was a deep river cutting them off from the source of the call. There was no sign of a bridge having ever been present, not even broken foundations.

“How are we meant to cross?” This time Piett had a moments warning. A tickling sensation almost, in the back of his mind with a distinct tone of amusement. Once more he found himself clinging to Lord Vader but there was not a wall at his back this time. Piett felt every one of the five seconds they were in the air as though they passed by in the space of hours, and he would forever deny something of a squeak ever issued from him.

While Piett had no qualms with being taken up into Lord Vader’s Sithly arms on a whim, a little warning would have been appreciated. Not everyone could boast of being a genius with magic powers at his command. The back of Lord Vader’s hand brushed across Piett’s cheek worked in place of an apology and the Admiral’s indignation quickly waned. Piett realised he too now would near the call.

“I don’t understand. How is this possible?” he wondered aloud. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the feel of the other but as he wrapped his mind around the fact that there was another the presently occupying a corner of his mind; that he could feel something of Lord Vader’s thoughts, feeling and observations. It was quite simply - odd, just in its newness. 

A replay of their passion echoed, “When you thought of me as yours, the Force bound us,” Lord Vader explained.

“Just like that?” marvelled Piett. He knew exactly where to reach to caress the cheek of Vader’s mask. In turn Piett felt the nose nuzzle his palm.

“As simple and as complex as that.” Piett was uncertain he understood. “Perhaps in time, when you are more use to its presence, you will.”

They moved to enter another corridor and followed it to a relatively sharp and deep turn. From there the light began to return, blue and bright at corridors end and the tell-tale sound of multiple water sources ahead could be heard.

“By all the Gods!” gasped Piett. Almost the entire ceiling and a good portion of the upper walls of the chamber, as far as the eye could see, was formed of the bioluminescent stone. Even the black stone clouds which cut through the false sky could not dim the quantity of light it produced. It shone down upon rolling forests of green, stippled with an abundance of coloured blooms. The air was thick with their perfumes, and the breeze caused but the innumerable waterfalls, just kept them coming.

From their right wafted something of a distinctly citrus tone. The cool touch of mint was blown away by the impressive fragrance of Jade rose. Petrichor drifted in from somewhere ahead and a sudden change replaced it with something sweet and fruity, with a hint of Nubian chocolate.

Nubian chocolate. Piett could recall the smell, and its taste and texture from when he had tasted it years ago. Except he never had. He hadn’t known until just now it even existed. The same went for Jade rose; yet he could recall how strong he found the scent to be, and its broad size and velvet soft petals. And how Padmé had sighed when he had drawn one down her naked torso. Piett gasped inwardly as he realised the memories were not his own. There were Vader’s, no, Anakin Skywalker’s memories. Yet they could have been Piett’s own with how easily he recalled the sound and the feel of Padmé’s mouth, moaning around his fingers as he feed her pieces of Nubian chocolate in bed.

This was what Lord Vader had meant by calling this new thing between them both simple and complex. His senses were stimulating the others. Not letting go of the others hand, he picked up a mossy stone and brushed his thumb over it before taking in its cool, earthy scent. In his mind he saw a room, in many ways not unlike this chamber, full of water features and plant-life. 

\---*---

For the first time, Vader could recall the memories of Anakin Skywalker without the dark feelings which always followed them. Whether it was an effect of this place and the clarity of thought provided, or the man at his side, he could not say. Perhaps it was something of both. The regret however remained. But not so overpowering as it had once been.

It was as provocative as feeling Piett’s desire for the first time, and as exhilarating as their shared passion, observing Piett’s astute and rational mind figure out he as the cause of it. Letting Piett take the lead, the other provided a steady supply of stimulus. Flowery and organic scents, most of which were more than pleasant. But a few he only enjoyed simply because they existed and he could smell them. And feel them. Not to mention the array of colours Piett shared with him. Seeing through the Admiral’s eyes, nothing was tainted with red. No tree seemed to have leaves the same shade of green. No flowers with petals of like colours. The Admiral’s hand, his spacer-fair skin contrasting strongly with the jet black of his gloves. If only he could tell what colour the others eyes were.

“Hazel,” Piett answered, looking up at him through his lashes, a smirk playing on his lips. Sadly all seen through tainted red. “My hair is dark blonde.” Dark blonde and utterly dishevelled from their amorous exchange. Vader felt Piett’s cheeks heat. Wanting to feel it closer still he placed one of the Admirals’ hands against the heat and felt the roughness of beard growth beside it. It grew hotter still as Piett’s hand crept up to his pauldron. “I’m not the only one.” His smirk increased. With a fingertip he added to the mess of prints he’d already left. Vader realised his helmet was in the same condition. He saw he wore their act of debauchery just as clearly as he could see it on the Admiral. 

Had Lord Vader’s breathing not been out of his control already, he would have lost it in a single gasp when Piett licked his own palm and blew on it, focused firmly on sharing the sensation. “Come.” Piett moved them on before Lord Vader’s mind could compute the sensation. The Admiral’s whispered promises of more to come as their passions were rekindled.

By a small body of water Piett left him to sit against a boulder with the backpack. Casting aside his boots and socks Piett let the sand of the little stream’s bank press between his toes, only to raise an eyebrow at his lack of response. What a way for the Admiral to discover his dislike of sand. Still, Piett took it in stride and moved to the moss where carpeted everywhere underfoot. The softness almost made him want to wiggle his artificial toes. Lord Vader became so caught up in the feeling, the sudden awareness of cloth being peeled off where it had adhered to skin, left him dumbfounded and his skin tingling. The Admirals’ uniform jacket was soon joined by the rest of his clothing, each layer removed with the upmost care as to invoke each’s arousal and gratify the senses. Uninhibited Piett moved into the water. They shivered as one at its cool touch.

The admiral rolled the soles of his feet over water-smoothed stones as he washed his lean, military-honed body with firm hands. The cool water and a myriad of perfumed breezes raised goose pimples over almost every inch of his body. The head of the Admiral’s cock tingled unbearably, the breeze the water, icy-cold to its fiery heat. The whole scene he provided was excessively indulgent. Their Force-bond in its newness had been entirely corrupted by sensuality. Lord Vader, for once in his life let himself be lead away from duty. The call was still strong, and even with the distractions he faced, he would still be able to trace its source, even if it did go silent while he answered this other call with earnest desire.

“Come here,” Lord Vader ordered. He was surprised by Piett’s momentary hesitation, but relaxed when he sensed the others temptation to test boundaries, to play at a flirtation. He could feel how much Piett wanted to make the Sith say it, to hear him beg in the same voice which made grown men tremble with fear but Piett was too needy himself to play. 

All too eagerly the Admiral sank into his arms and pressed against him, leant to one side to avoid the control box. Again Piett let him take the lead and control where his hands went. Lord Vader could feel as though it was his own fingers which inched further along the Admiral’s skin. Rough, calloused hands catching and dragging over his hypersensitive flesh. It was a mad thrilling power, greater than even the Dark Side of the Force and he burned.

"Open your eyes." Let me see, please. He did beg when the Admiral closed his eyes when their joined hands finally, finally wrapped around his aching cock. They almost lost it together then and there but with a little aid from the Force, he staved them off. Who know how soon they would be able to do this again? Make it last. Drink deep of this well of sensations, Vader told himself.

First came the tingling, almost like an itch. It only increased, radiated out from the pool of pleasure gathering from below their testes up through the head of their cock. Their muscles clenched and it felt as though fire had been injected into their veins. It dashed to and from their extremities as they came.

There was no sound but his own regular breathing for a time. Nothing else in the world existed but it didn’t torment Lord Vader as it normally would. It felt as though nothing ever would again, as long as he had his Admiral. Thank the Force he knew the Admiral to be of a like mind. What a man to have by his side, and in his arms. Lord Vader never thought to have this deep, abiding connection to another living being again.

The Admiral, sensing his post-orgasmic introspection snapped him out of it with one last sensualistic act. He brought their hands to his mouth and licked off the cum which was rapidly cooling. Vader thought he might never be able to look at his own hands again, let alone the Admiral’s which caused the other to laugh around the leather clad finger in his mouth.

“As much as I would love to continue to do this, my Lord, we should continue,” Piett gently released his hand. “I can’t say how long we’ve been gone and we still have a way to go yet.” Still it took some effort on the Admiral’s behalf to pry himself away, wash again quickly and dress in a spare jumpsuit which was ridiculously and rather endearingly large of his petite frame. 

Hand in hand for what would be one of the last few times they could openly do so, they moved on to the source of the call.


	5. Source

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They drawn nearer to the source of the Force-call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to acknowledge the genius who is @Fialleril and thank them yet again for letting me borrow their ideas.  
> If you would like to learn more you can find them here: fialleril.tumblr.com/

The town appeared through the tree line with no warning. Before the moment it came within sight, there had been no signs of life. But for the buildings there still was no other sign. They were built simply, yet decorated ornately - both representative of a familiar desert style. The Tatooinian Riad. They were crafted purely out of sandstone, which hardly looked to be local either. There were other items and designs of cultures, clearly of other worlds. There did not appear to be anything unrecognisable, which might belong to a native species.  
  
They followed streets littered with who could say how many years or more of soil and decomposing leaves. It was most unexpected to suddenly hear the voice of a child. Through the decayed and broken wooden shutters of one of the houses, a boy could be seen sitting at a kitchen table. A youth with blue eyes, sun tanned skin and a mop of golden, sun bleached hair. Vader almost didn't recognise him immediately as himself, many years ago. And more shocking still to hear the voice of his youth speak very familiar words.  
  
_”Mom, you say the biggest problem in this Universe is nobody helps each other.”_ He remembered saying that to her, when Padmé and Qui-Gon came. The Force had cried out for him to help them, but he had to convince his mother first. She had been so worried over him. Lord Vader could not imagine what she would think of him now. He felt the pressure sensors in his hand increase momentarily when Piett squeezed it.  
  
The sweet sound of a finely tuned podracer engines echoed through the streets but never came within sight but Lord Vader did not need to see it to know it was his very own. He could hear the roar of the crowds as he crossed over the finish line. The sound of it all vibrated through his durasteel limbs and into his bones and he could feel the ghost of the adrenaline which had replaced his blood that day.  
  
But it wasn't simply his own memories which echoed now. In another home, through an open doorway one of Piett’s memories from boyhood played. _“It’ll never go to trial. Taleed Larbec will have paid off the Imperial Commander by now. The Moliere's will never see justice for what that monster did to their children. The whole system is corrupt."_ To see the moment when his lover, _his lover,_ started down the path to become the Champion against corruption which he was today was moving.  
  
But they weren't simply treated to visions of the past. _”The Emperor is little more than a common thief. He has spent these decades stealing the treasures of many worlds and had them hidden away. Part of Operation: Cinder is to destroy them, rather than have them returned to their places of origin.”_ Lord Vader heard himself speak in a voice he hadn’t spoken with in a long time. His own. There was no vision to explain it. They only heard the words.  
  
_“If he can’t have them, no one can,”_ the Firmus Piett of the future added.  
  
_“And the same goes for the Empire, and the Galaxy - he would rather see it all burn than have them continue without him.”_ Operation: Cinder. They would have to learn more about it. Vader had heard something of it, but clearly he needed to know more. He could feel that it was vital.  
  
" _You did this, my Lord. You made it happen and it’s so beautiful_.” They heard Piett speak again, his voice filled with pure awe.  
  
“That sounds like _hope_ ,” the Piett of the present, the one by his side, said. Vader did not doubt his opinion. Who would know better than the one who said, or at least would one day say it?  
  
The temple, for all its size and its pyramidal edifice of white marble, remained hidden by deceptively clever arts until they were almost at its doors. Carved into the stone could be seen as further proof of this abandoned civilisations’ origins being from his home world of Tatooine. Symbols of the culture Vader had been raise in - the slave culture of Tatooine. Upon the door was an unmistakable symbol - Unfettered.  
  
“There are multiple stories - that time and again shiploads of slaves had made successful bids for freedom over the millennia,” he said reverently.  
  
The Admiral looked up at him with a smile, sensing his awe, “Perhaps one or more made their way here?”  
  
“They must have. Our symbology is unique. There is nowhere else it could have come from,” he answered.  
  
“What does the main one mean?”  
  
“Unfettered. The circle symbolises broken chains. Blue is the colour of life and freedom, and the three circles within represent Tatooine’s three moons, or Ekkreth themselves - the Sky-walker.”  
  
“A relative?”  
  
“In a way. Ekkreth is parent to the Great Krayt; Leia the Mighty One; She Who is Elder Sister to the Amavikka.”  
  
“Amavikka? That is the name of your people?”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Thank you.” Piett did not need to explain why he was thankful. He understood that Vader had told him something extremely secret, and what it meant to share it with him with the ease that he did. Vader in his turn could sense how honoured Piett was by the trust Vader was showing him.  
  
‘I trust you’ rather than ‘I love you’. For them, men in their positions, with power and command, finding trust was a far greater treasure to finding love. Without trust, no true love could grow. ‘I love you’ could be said a million times in a lifetime and be genuinely meant each and every time, but how many times could ‘I trust you’ be spoken in kind, and meant.  
  
Reaching forward with the Force, Lord Vader gained them entry into the temple. Double-doors parted to show a space more beautiful than even the interior of the Jedi Temple of old. The interior was decorated in a fantastical display of mosaic tiles, stone carvings, gold-gilding and flowery enamelling. Lights carved from the blue luminescent stone lit up painted circles and banners were the names and stories of Ekkreth, Leia, Ar-Amu and other figures of Amavikka culture; freely on show for anyone who could read the secret script. The interior gardens echoed the forest outside. Amongst the green stood enormous pillars of glistening kyber crystals which were entwined with vines and leaves of gold, studded with precious stones which transformed to golden trees holding up the vaulted ceiling. In Lord Vader’s presence the kyber crystals began to sing a song as awful as it was beautiful.  
  
"Was it the crystals calling you?"  
  
“No. It was I,” a powerful voice said in Huttese.


	6. Ani and Nalu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to phoenixdaisy for saying just the right things to help me to get on with this story <3  
> And thank you to everyone else for putting up with my griping XD

The disembodied voice hit them like a wall of energy. Together and apart they were thrown into the air - but they did not come down. Instead they were sent, through time, through space and into memory.  
  
_He could sense her pain, her fear. It burned his soul and tore at his heart to know she had been suffering at the hands of these monsters for almost a month._  
  
Hal-a-day. It had taken half-a-day to track her down. Too long; for too long. Campfires dotted the landscape between domed tents of bantha felt. Massiffs could be heard, and sometimes seen play-fighting, and shadowy silhouettes of Tusken Raiders moved to and fro worth a laziness that tended to affect after nightfall.  
  
The sound of fighting massiffs disguised the sound of his lightsaber as he cut a hole in the back of the tent, which he sensed concealed his captive mother.  
  
They had her tied up, spread like leather to be left to dry in the desert heat. She was covered in wounds and bruises, some fresh, others partly healed. As he released her from her bonds she could only moan weakly at the pain he inadvertently caused her.  
  
“Mom, mom,” he said gently as he lowered to the ground, cradling her in his arms.  
  
Somehow, by some miracle, she was able to open her swollen eyes and see him. “Ani. Is it you?”  
  
“I’m here, mom. You’re safe,” he promised.  
  
“Ani? Ani?” he felt her spark of recognition. “Oh, you look so handsome.” She caressed his face and he kissed her palm, careful to avoid the rope burns around her wrists. Still he could not avoid the taste of her blood on his lips. It seemed to be everywhere. “My son. Oh, my grown up son. Oh, I’m so proud of you, honey.”  
  
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.  
  
“Now I am complete,” she confessed.  
  
Her strength left her all at once. She struggled to cling to life. “I love…” Her hand slipped from his face.  
  
“Stay with me, mom.” He struggles not to cry as she fought for every next breath. “Everything -“ She tried to speak again but he couldn’t make out her words.  
  
With one last inhalation she formed those two words again, but not the third. All life left her as his tears finally fell.  
  
_He was afraid - because she was gone._  
  
He was in pain - because she was gone.  
  
He was angry - because she was gone.  
  
\- and those who had taken her from him would be made to suffer -  
  
The two guarding her prison fell swiftly, never truly aware of his presence - and others came running.  
  
“I never thought once you had slaughtered them all, that you would cut out your own heart, my son.” Lord Vader, not Anakin whirled around from where he stood amongst the bodies of the Tuskens, to see his mother stood outside the tent, whole and uninjured. She looked exactly the way he remembered her looking the day he left Tatooine to become a Jedi. “But now you have found your Dakka, you can be whole again,” she spoke with a kind of relief only a mother could feel.  
  
“”My Dakka?”  
  
“Do you remember Nima Elderkin and her daughter Terak?”  
  
“I do. They and all their Depur’s slaves were stolen in a single night.”  
  
“By the apprentice of a sodium merchant. An Axxilan by the name of Felix Piett.” If his heart was no artificially forced to keep a steady rhythm, it would have skipped a beat. He’d only been toddling when it happened but it had been such an event it had remained clear in his memory. The story had become on those the Grandmothers of the Quarters would tell again and again; a modern day fairy tale.  
  
The return of Akar Hinil and the seven chelii he flew away to a new life.  
  
But how was it the Admiral knew nothing of their people?  
  
“Terak. Once she was free, she chose to be keektu-du. Terak was the only child not taken from her. Nima spoiled her as much as she possibly could, gave into her every demand. Our ways were not what Terak wanted. Her son only knows the tales of Akar Hinil because he so resembled his father in deed. But even then Terak only permitted Nima to tell them in Basic or Huttese. The only words he knows of Amatakka is his secret name, a giftname Nima gave him - Naluvikka Leiaattani."  
  
\---*---  
  
"Do you remember that, my Nalu? Do you remember what it means?" Nana Nima had died so long ago, he'd been so young then, but something about those words. . .  
  
"Nalu means spirit, or soul. Vikka means child. Attani means sibling, and Leia is the name of the Krayt known as the Mighty One, Elder Sister of the Amavikka." Lord Vader appeared beside him, like he’d always been there, and the balcony overlooking the ecumenopolis of Axxila shifted to a desert landscape at night. A large rocky outcrop was lit by three moons and the Sith Lord was accompanied by a woman Piett did not know.  
  
"Ahnakeen Ekkreth,” Nana Nima acknowledge Vader. “My, how you've grown. You'd barely discovered your feet last I saw you. You could only be bothered to walk in you needed your hands for carrying some mechanical trinket or other." Talk about feeling someone’s embarrassment second-hand. “Oh Shmi! Your Ani and my Nalu. Who would have thought it possible, when they both went so far away?”  
  
“Ar-Amu has been kind, Nima, to give us this extra time with them. Btu we can only have so much,” Shmi responded seriously. She went to Vader and gripped his upper arms, which she knew to still be feeling flesh. “You went too far away, Ani. You have forgotten so much which you need to _remember_.”  
  
Together, they fell again.

  
  


_Remember_  
  
Memories began to pour back into focus from behind the many walls Vader had built around them, burning through _their_ synapses like molten rock, as Piett joined him on the journey.  
  
_The stories aren’t about how Ekkreth becomes a slave. They’re stories of how Ekkreth becomes free. Depur has a thousand cruelties, but Ekkreth has a hundred thousand tricks_ _¹._  
  
Piett sat beside him a hundred times as all the stories and the great krayt pearls of wisdom and knowledge they contained came back. Not just Ekkreth’s many tales but Tena, whose empathy was cruelly punished by Depur, only for her to be made free by Ar-Amu, to become her voice and free hundreds of fellow slaves.  
  
Maru, who helped Ekkreth give water to the people right under Depur’s nose.  
  
Ebra, who gave the Amavikka the sacred drink known to them as tzai, and the runes and symbols of protection, like the ones carved on the temples edifice.  
  
Akar Hinil, who led freedom raids for years, breaking the chains of many and taking them to the stars. Perhaps having brought them to this very place, far from Depur’s reach.  
  
It was all there. Answers to questions unasked. What they _could do_. How it _could be done_. How the great Depur of the age _could be_ defeated.  
  
There was so much to be done.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to acknowledge forgottenscarves on tumblr who created the story of 'The Krayt Dragon's Heart' from which Dakka was sourced.
> 
> 1 - quote from Shape-Changer by Fialleril. Please go check out their work
> 
> More about the figures of Amatakkan myths and legends can be found here: http://fialleril.tumblr.com/post/149060073516/tena-the-prophet

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to the Pieder-lovers. You know who you are my loves ;D


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